


Language Lessons, 17: onsia (1200 words)

by ImpOfPerversity



Series: Language Lessons [17]
Category: Baroque Cycle - Neal Stephenson, Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: 1 Sentence Fiction, Languages, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-30
Updated: 2005-10-30
Packaged: 2018-11-12 12:10:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11161569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpOfPerversity/pseuds/ImpOfPerversity





	Language Lessons, 17: onsia (1200 words)

  
  
Swinging like a slow pendulum, the motion almost imperceptible, high above the _Black Pearl_ 's inky, shadowy deck; high above the vast calm starry ocean, a swell from the south carrying the ship and her company -- all but bare-masted, for there was nothing of haste in this voyage, and the men were weary after weathering that dreadful storm, now vanished utterly, for days on end -- t'wards the jungled coast of Malabar that lay beyond the faint pearly horizon, her wake stretching like a straight pale banner of sparkling phosphorus out behind her as she sailed north-east through the clear warm night, the only sounds the sussurant rush of water as the _Pearl_ 's bow parted the sea before her, and the occasional murmur of the watch, bidding a good evening to Jamie Martingale as he stood proud and alert at the helm, holding her steady; the whole of the ship, from figurehead to rudder-pole, at peace once more after the violent battle with the cyclone, and Jack Sparrow and his love -- his _other_ (and, let it be said, warmer and more traditionally affectionate) love -- looking down on her from this far vantage-point, shoulder to shoulder in the narrow space of the main-top; Jack's hand on Shaftoe's thigh (ready and waiting to snatch the rum-flask from Jack Shaftoe's lips as soon as he paused for breath), Shaftoe's bare foot hooked over Jack's ankle, comfortable and unremarkable -- save, Jack thought, that nothing about Mr Jack Shaftoe could ever be so classified -- and bruised, a little, from where he'd been aloft earlier, fighting the topgallant to its bunt; Jack reached down with his left hand to stroke the purpled skin, and Shaftoe swallowed, and grinned, and leaned more heavily 'gainst Jack's shoulder: "what're you thinking?" he enquired, and Jack cocked his head, gazing upon Jack Shaftoe -- a fine sight by moonlight, his eyes the midnight blue of the zenith sky where the full moon outshone all but the brightest planets, the silvery glow casting his smile, and that wicked dimple, into chiselled relief -- and smiled too; "why," he queried, "must I be thinking anything, eh? apart from wondering whether you've left me any rum, you greedy Vagabond," to which Shaftoe tilted the flask demonstratively, letting Jack hear the gurgle of liquid therein; "because you're always thinking, Captain Sparrow," he said, "and twice as much when you're silent -- a phenomenon which I value for its _rarity_ , don't get me wrong -- and it's half a glass since you said anything at all; therefore that cunning mind of yours must be engaged on some very weighty business," to which Jack only smiled, and retrieved the rum, and drank deep, remarking to himself that the fiery spirit was less warming than Jack Shaftoe's regard: having drunk, and savoured the burn of it all the way down, he said, "I was thinking of _love_ , Mr Shaftoe," to which Shaftoe said nothing at all, but only looked at him askance; for their mutual state of bliss, though readily acknowledged (most usually in moments of extreme carnality, or in their delicious honeyed aftermath), was not a subject of frequent discussion between the two of them, being -- like the sea, the sky, the weather, gravity, mortality -- so very fundamental a notion that no philosophising seemed necessary; thus Shaftoe did not speak now, but simply gazed at Jack, and smiled as though to say that Love (or perhaps its close cousin, _Lust_ ) was on his mind too, or possibly -- Jack, diverted, examined Shaftoe's smile more closely, utilising lips and tongue in preference to eyes -- that Jack was a dear sentimental fool for labelling their connection with such a romantickal word; his answering kiss, though, spoke volumes to Jack, volumes not only romantickal but stirring (he knelt up, not breaking the kiss, to straddle Shaftoe's thighs, thus relieving some of the pressure of damp breeches against the inevitable heaviness at his groin) and even _spiritual_ ; which last reflection, accompanied and emphasised by the sweet, spiritous press of Jack Shaftoe's delicious mouth against his own, prompted Jack to lean back, sighing, and say, "aye, of _love_ : did you know, Jack, that in these parts --"; " _these_ parts?" enquired Shaftoe guilelessly, pressing his palm against the front of Jack's breeches and making Jack moan; " _these_ parts," he said firmly, waving a hand in the probable direction of the nearest continent, "they've many more words for love than we poor Englishmen, or rather men of no country save our own; nice and precise, they are, with names for every stage of it;" "I didn't know," said Shaftoe, grinning, "but I feel sure I shall _discover_ , 'fore the night's out; so, Jack, have they a word for that first time a man looks at another, and finds himself moved? or for the sentiment that overcomes a fellow when he finds himself stolen away like a sack of dry goods? or --"; "oh, there's nothing dry about _you_ , Mr Shaftoe," said Jack warmly, "and if you must compare yourself with some base commodity, let it be gold, or rum, or some exotic spice at least; to return to our Subject, I'm sure they do have words for all those sentiments and more, and I shall endeavour to discover them for the felicity of hearing you _speak_ of such matters: but the word I had in mind, Jack, was **onsia** ," and he looked at Jack Shaftoe, here with him high above the world, holding him, smiling at him, and could not go on: Shaftoe, of course, was unafflicted with the emotions currently flooding through Jack's mind, and he jabbed Jack (not ungently) in the ribs, and said, "righto: now, what does it _mean_ , eh?" and Jack let the motion of the ship carry him slowlyslowly t'wards Shaftoe, 'til their lips near met again, and only then did he say, "'tis to love for the very last time, Jack, as I love you;" Shaftoe blinked slowly, and Jack could almost see the thoughts teeming behind that dark gleaming gaze; "Jack," he said, "if aught became of me, you'd find another," and this was too near by far to the inchoate, unvoiced fears of the afternoon, to the leap of heart to throat as Jack'd looked up to see Shaftoe swaying out against the gale, unbalanced for a single mortal moment, on the topgallant yard: he closed Shaftoe's mouth with another kiss, and said, "if I lost you, Jack Shaftoe, I'd never find your match, nor even care to seek it; oh, there'd be others in my bed, Jack, for sure," and Shaftoe chuckled, and slipped his hand under Jack's shirt, tingly-chill 'gainst warm skin, "but none, none in my heart, Mr Shaftoe, none that could compare: and now I know what it is to be thus, with you --"; "and I with you," murmured Jack Shaftoe, looking straight into Jack's eyes, straight to his heart; "-- how should I think that such a thing might come again?" and Shaftoe closed his eyes, and pulled Jack t'wards him 'til they were pressed together from head to hip, and said softly, "if this is the last, then let it last a lifetime."

written for [](http://geek-mama-2.livejournal.com/profile)[**geek_mama_2**](http://geek-mama-2.livejournal.com/)  



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